


Snow Night

by valentinejpg



Category: Midnight Cowboy (1969)
Genre: Fluff, Implied Relationships, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 16:36:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19299580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valentinejpg/pseuds/valentinejpg
Summary: Just random mini story about Rico and Joe, its mainly fluffy nonsense





	Snow Night

**Author's Note:**

> so I'm back with another mc fanfic and I apologize in advance because this one is all over the place and was sitting in my google docs for months. I think I had some trouble with past and present tense verbs so please ignore any mistakes (or point them out for me). I originally was never going to show this at all, but if your like me and have an obsession with this pair and can't find content then I hope to help you somehow (even if its not the best ddjjsjsj)

Two figures lingered outside the "Root's diner" restaurant on 42nd street west side New York. The juxtaposition of the pair was almost laughable: a tall cowboy (Joe Buck) stood next to a dark-looking man half his size (Rico Rizzo). It was a cold January night.  
Joe rubbed his arms together attempting to regain some heat. He closed his eyes vividly sighing a puff of air. The streets were nearly barren—excluding a few cab cars and strangers who had distinct places to be. Not even the usual hustlers bothered to stick around in the cold.

One of the various blonde women in his life once told Joe ("think of someplace warm when it gets cold"). Standing next to Rico eased his mind towards Florida--from all the days his friend spent rambling about it. Joe looked past the grimy New York streets and saw himself in sunny Florida with the soft pearly sand and azure waters, exactly like in the pamphlets his friend had. He tried to envision himself along the beach with his toes submerged in the sand. Rico was there too. He pictured them holding fancy drinks and laughing together. A little tune of sunshine and laughter started to play within his mind like a commercial. (“You could be here right now!”) Joe dangerously longed to, it was a feeling he didn't particularly like.

He frowned and opened his eyes, abruptly ending his daydream. The happy tune of Florida halted. He wanted to talk to Rico to drown the boredom, but Rico spoke up before Joe could think of anything worthwhile. 

“You got a smoke?” He asked.

“Yeah uh, here” Joe answered quickly, he pulled out a pack and handed it to Rico’s shaking hands.  
They both lit their cigs with a match. Puffing idly Joe felt himself grow a bit warmer. 

“Shee-it, how much longer do we gotta wait for this guy?” Joe exaggerated as he slipped the pack into his pocket. 

“Not long, it's almost closing time,” Rico replied matter-of-factly.

They both glanced at the diner through the window. The old brick building looked frozen to the ground, but with the lights on it was a warm escape from the freezing temperature just outside. Joe frantically wanted to go inside. Within the diner was a man named Angie, he was wiping tables unaware of the two prying eyes watching him. He wasn't a significant man, just another face that Rico made an unlikely connection to. Rico and Angie miraculously met at some coffee shop. He was a thin older man with curly blonde hair and grey eyes. He’d been working at the “Root’s Diner” for 2 years now. Originally, Rico sought to do the usual pickpocket routine--swipe a few bucks off this mans back while withholding a conversation, but he got sidetracked when Angie, in an act of pure kindness, offered to bring the crippled boy leftovers. Turns out Angie knew Rico when he was once very young. Back in the Bronx young Angie worked at the old spaghetti restaurant Rico’s father frequented with his children. He moved before he could see what became of Dominic Salvatore Rizzo. 

This interaction sparked an alliance between the two. Now some days Rico waits outside the diner in hopes to get food, and that was that. It sure beats hustling around to find scraps from other places. He didn't have anything better to do than wait around. Since Joe crashed in from Texas they started doing this ritual together. It made Rico feel less lonesome. In fact, he rather enjoyed waiting outside, which rather surprised Joe, he often pictured Rico as a shark who had to keep moving or he’d lose his marbles. On nice nights (when it was a bit less empty) Rico followed his eyes on the people walking by, there were multitudes of characters passing on the streets. It was interesting, to say the least. Rico often looked forward to the days he got to wait outside the “Root’s Diner”, it was relaxing. A nice breather from the usual grind. In a way, it was like the Sunday dinners spent at the spaghetti restaurant. Those days seemed like a long time ago. 

“Damn cold..” Joe mumbled to himself looking down at his shoes.

He leaned himself against the old brick building and started fiddling with his hands. The joints in his fingers felt chilled and raw. He breathed warm mist on his hands and rubbed them together. 

Rico noticed him fidgeting and quickly eyeballed him, observing how underdressed he was. With only his stained yellow leather jacket on his back, just looking at Joe made Rico shiver.

“Well no wonder, you only got one jacket on, I mean Christ” Rico chuckled.

“Lay off, I’m cold--but I ain't that cold,” Joe stubbornly jumped back on his complaint. He didn't want to make a fuss about it. 

“Course you are, you’s shakin’.” Rico pointed at Joe's bare hands, almost as white as bone. 

Joe shoved his hands in his pocket like some dumb teenager and Rico let out a dismissive “pssh” sound while waving his hand. Joe continued to fiddle with his aching cold hands, eventually inching them up his sleeves--which was quite toasty but looked stupid. Growing annoyed Rico started to unbutton his coat. 

“Here.”

He looked puzzled at the gesture, Rico only pushed the coat towards him. Hesitantly, he took it then put it on. Despite looking huge on Rico it fit Joe almost perfectly. 

“Ain't you gonna be cold now?” Joe asked. (“the hell did that solve?”)

“I'll survive. You need it more than me.” He shook his head  
“It fits good on you though,” Rico added.

He looked up at Joe. There was a fleeting glimpse of admiration in his eyes. Joe took them in his own, quickly observing all the details--even the ugly grey bags underneath. It was a rare moment that Joe really got to look at Rico Rizzo. Within the flickering gaze, He felt lost within the dark tired eyes. Joe tried to ignore the urge to pick the little cripple up and shield him from the cold forever. It was as if his eyes were begging to be whisked away to Florida right this instant-- pleading even. He pushed the picture out of his mind as soon as it appeared. Those eyes seemed so sad, so delicate, but warm nonetheless. As soon as the moment started it had ended, Rico cast down his eyes wanting to look at anything else.  
“Yeah.” Joe finally replied.

He inspected the coat on his arms, The dark tougher leather helped a lot, the coat felt like a warm gentle hug.  
“This real nice of you Ratso,” Joe spoke softly.

“Don't mention it,” Rico replied busying himself looking at the ground. He didn't want to admit it, but he was proud of making this sacrifice. In fact, the night seemed a lot less frigid because of this small and tender moment. This little act of kindness lifted both their spirits, but not wanting to make it awkward Joe and Rico waited in comfortable silence again. 

Suddenly, tiny flakes of snow started to flutter down from above: they were light, fluffy, and danced around in the wind. Blessing the city with white sparkles nearly lighting up the night sky like stars.

“Would ya look at that?” Joe grinned and Rico glanced up. They both felt thankful for the small cover of the restaurant. 

“So? jus’ means it's going to get colder from now on.”

Rico held his hand out catching a few flakes in his glove. Joe recognized the small curve of a smile on his face. The image of Rico’s gentle eyes burned in his mind. 

A good amount of time passed and Angie gave Rico a small packaged box of spaghetti and bread. They exchanged some Italian words Joe didn't know, then he closed up shop, waved goodbye and started walking home. Rico and Joe did the same. Less than three words were exchanged and Joe silently admired how these two people managed to do this trade so often. He clutched the box feeling the warmth resonating off the food. For once he was looking forward to going back to their X-flat, He couldn't remember the last time he had spaghetti for dinner. 

They walked steadily, a broken grasshopper and a six foot one tarnished cowboy hopping about the snowy streets. They went past the X-flats main door towards the back as usual. Joe helped Rico up the stairs without a second thought. As they were making their way up Joe paused for a moment then reached out to gently brush the little snowflakes off Rico’s greasy hair. Surprisingly, Rico didn't protest or flinch he just snickered it off. 

The familiarness of their home helped Joe feel relaxed, even if it was almost as cold as it was outside. They split the spaghetti dinner, ate it in another long silence, then promptly called it a night.  
Joe watched the snow fall down from his window while changing his shirt. Each individual clump fell so delicately in the wind. He was mesmerized. Today felt like a strange day. Joe thought about Rico and him giving up his jacket. Hell did he do that for? It didn’t solve nothing. (“The boy probably got more sick catching all that cold and snow!”)

Rico eased himself onto the bed wincing slightly as he kicked both his feet off the ground and quickly rested them under the covers. Joe was about to settle into his makeshift blanket bed when Rico shifted searching for something to say. 

“Uh I figure it's going to be cold tonight--so maybe we should stick together so we don't get pneumonia or something.” 

Joe nodded. It wasn't unusual for the two to share the bed considering the lack of heat. He casually walked over to Rico’s bed and got in on the other side.  
They laid back to back dwelling in the silence, each waiting to drift off into a deep comfortable sleep.  
Joe tries keeping his eyes closed but soon he hears Rico’s coughing start up and he opens them in concern. The bed shakes as he heaves away and Joe tries to focus his mind on something else. He restrains the impulse to hold Rico and rub his back until the coughing seizes. 

Joe meekly peers over at Rico whose now leaning over the side of the bed. He hears him spit in a can on the side table then wipe his mouth. Joe frowns, momentarily depressed with an undefined sorrow. Then as Rico positions himself back on the bed their eyes meet again like magnets. In the dark, Joe can hardly read Rico’s miserable and desperate expression. Joe knows Rico is sick, and he really ought to do something about it. He knows Rico isn't going to come to him for help anytime soon. Rico may be smart and can spur out facts faster than Joe could think, but he isn't as tough. No one can pull through a sickness that's this persistent. (“Tomorrow!”)  
Joe thinks. Tomorrow he will get his friend to a doctor, and he’ll be damned if something happens to him before then. Suddenly engulfed in worry, Joe breaks his gaze and forces his mind to think about something else. Anything but that. 

They both settle down and ease into the stillness of the room. Joe feels himself grow drowsy again as his vision blurs with the darkness. Just then, he feels a touch so soft it might've been simply imagined. An arm is lazily draped over him and he can feel Rico’s breathing against his back. Joe was not expecting this. His heartbeat flutters and skips around like a big drum and he feels his entire body grow slack. Rico’s arm was so light. He carefully edges himself back so they can be closer in the bed. Rico kicks himself up and leans his face against Joe’s neck. He was holding him like a life preserver as if Rico was drowning and this cowboy was his only beacon of survival. Joe was the only way Rico could rack up enough money to leave New York. Joe feels something heavy in his gut, he feels the burden of having to protect something. He can sense Rico’s heartbeat against him, it’s a strange but comforting noise.

The snowflakes continue to fall during the night, draping the city in a soft white blanket. Everything is calm, the entire flat may have been freezing but within the covers, Joe and Rico remained warm throughout the night. The two slept soundly through the night.


End file.
